


i'll be safe in your sound 'till i come back around

by marriottsmushrooms



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alex is really ill, James tries his best to help him, M/M, Mention of blood, Suicide, This fic gets kind of dark pretty quick, Vomiting, guys please look after yourselves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 14:55:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18875473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marriottsmushrooms/pseuds/marriottsmushrooms
Summary: James isn't stupid. Nor is he deaf, or blind, or simply incompetent. No, he sees everything, hears everything, understands that when Alex lies to him, it's all fake.





	i'll be safe in your sound 'till i come back around

**Author's Note:**

> Heya lads
> 
> This fic is really pretty grim, so be careful and make sure you definitely want to read this
> 
> Look after yourselves, alright?  
> Drink plenty of water 
> 
> If there's anything else you think I should tag this fic with then please let me know 
> 
> Cheers and ily xx

James isn't stupid. Nor is he deaf, or blind, or simply incompetent. No, he sees everything, hears everything, understands that when Alex lies to him, it's all fake. 

He sees Alex's skin, grey now, not that peachy colour it used to be. His rosy cheeks that James used to press his lips to have been painted over by the kind of paint, the colour of paint that they use for the walls in hospital wards. Bland, pale, lifeless, just like the people that lie inside. 

James sees Alex's ribs, and his hips, and the clumps of hair in the bathroom sink, that belong in his head but fall to the floor if you so much as brush them. He shouldn't be able to see Alex's ribs, to run his fingers down them and feel the spaces in between like he's dragging his fingers across mountains. Up and down, up and down. 

He shouldn't be able to feel each and every bone that makes up Alex's hand, and he shouldn't be able to wrap his whole hand around Alex's wrist when he's pleading for Alex to try and do something other than sit in bed and feel sorry for himself. He shouldn't have to plead, plead for Alex to say something, plead for Alex to drink, to eat, to wake up- on the days where Alex is still unconscious at 4pm, and James doesn't want to accept the fact that one day he could wake up and be living in an apartment that someone had died in. He's terrified of that day, but he thinks now that it's inevitable. 

He hears Alex, as much as he wishes he didn't have to, and as much as he knows Alex hates being pitied, he hears every one of his sobs late into the night. Alex tries to stifle them, James can tell, when he wakes up the next morning and takes Alex's hand to find it littered with deep teeth indentations. Sometimes they bleed, but James is used to it now. He's seen Alex's blood outside his body so many separate times now that he's sure it can't do him any good. He always wipes them down, learning to ignore when Alex winces in order to stop them from getting infected. It's an almost daily routine now, and Alex lets James do it, he doesn't fight it, not anymore. 

James hopes and prays every morning that when he steps out of his room, he won't have to hear Alex spilling his guts out into the toilet. More often than not, this isn't the case. James will swallow down the lump in his throat, and make his way into the bathroom to rub Alex's back as the smaller boys stick-thin fingers clutch the porcelain like its the only thing he can hold on to. James supposes it is. It makes his stomach turn, as it would, and when Alex finally rolls his head over to rest on the seat, and smiles at James as if he's in a daze, James always says the same thing. 

"You're so sick, Alex. You're so, so sick."

"I know," Alex murmurs, still smiling, before standing up, his weak legs struggling to hold what little body weight he has left, and he stumbles out of the door, probably to lie in bed again. 

Alex tells him, every time James even looks at him, that he's fine.

"I'm fine," He smiles, smoothing his hands down the front of James' shirt. "You look great."  
Alex wasn't fine, he'd collapsed in the kitchen whilst James was out, and had woken up with a burning headache and a small smear of blood on the floorboards. 

"I'm fine," Alex had whispered, his throat raw and stinging from the sharp acid that had come up to ruin his throat. He leaned over again, heaving into the bowl. "I'm fine."

"I'm fine!" Alex had shouted, backed against the corner, his eyes wide in fear. "I am, James, I am." 

"You aren't, Alex. Look at you, you're so sick. You need help."

"I don't fucking need help," Alex had choked, tears in his eyes, pushing past James, and stumbling to the bathroom. James heard the door lock behind him. 

James remembers the times when it wasn't like this. He remembers them and cries, because Alex was okay then. There was colour to his skin, there was life in his eyes, he was entirely different. 

James was entirely enamoured by Alex, always had been, and when he remembers the first time they had confessed their love for each other, his stomach drops. He will always love Alex, he could never stop, even with him being the way he is. 

That's why it hurt so much when Alex pushed James out of his life. It started with the little things, with Alex cancelling plans and not replying to texts, but after James moved in, everything just seemed to go downhill. There were a few good nights, and there still are, night where Alex will curl up in James's arms and they'll watch a film or two together. James lives for those nights, although they are few and far between. 

James woke up one morning to clunking coming from the living room, as soon as he entered the room, he saw the front door slam shut. It sent shivers down his spine. He went after Alex, running down the corridor, but he'd lost him. Lost him for good. 

The note was scribbled, smudged, but legible. 

'James,

I'm going to stay with my parents.  
Might not come back.  
Depends.

Alex.'

James had sank to his knees, paper pressed to his chest. 

He'd finally lost the boy he loved. 

He was starting to feel less empty as the days passed. The more mornings he woke up without feeling Alex's presence in the apartment, the more his heart began to stitch itself back together. A week had flown by, night by night, without any contact with Alex, until his phone rang, loud and harsh, slicing through the silent air in the apartment. It was awfully late, and James sighed, eyes heavy. The screen flashed green, and showed Alex's contact. His fingers hurried to accept the call.

"James, I'm sorry."  
That was Alex. James' boy. They only person he needed.

"Alex, come home, please. I love you, I need you," James pleaded. 

"I can't come home, James. I wish I could. I wish I could make myself come home to you but I can't," Alex speaks, choked up. 

"Of course you can, of course you can. I'll pay for the train ticket, I'll meet you at the station. Alex, I'll come and get you. Right now, just say." 

"I'm sorry James," Alex sobs, looking down. His hand clutches the railing. It's a high fall into murky waters. 

The metal burns his palm, cold in the night air. He feels the paint chip away beneath his clammy skin. His eyes well with tears until everything blurs into one dark mess. 

"Sorry for what, Alex?" 

"For being such a burden. I'm so sick, James. I'm sick of being sick. I'm going to get help." Alex looks down again. He chokes. Doing this will help him, he thinks. Help everybody. 

James lets out a cry.  
"I'm so proud of you, Al. So proud of you for reaching out. I love you."

"I love you too, James," Alex smiles. "But I can't come back, not until I'm ready."

"Yeah, yeah, of course. I'll wait here. I'll wait forever for you, Alex."

"Don't, don't wait forever. Wait a year. If I don't come back then move on."

"Why, Al?" James asks. 

"You never know what the future holds," Alex murmurs. "Just, don't rely on me, James. I'm a broken man. I ruined you."

"And you'll be fixed. Just, keep me updated."

"Of course."

"Okay," James smiles sadly. "I love you, Al."

"I love you too, James." 

"See you soon."

"Of course," Alex lies. "See you soon." 

The familiar tone rings in his ear. James is gone. Alex lets his grip weaken, and he watches the phone glint in the moonlight as it falls into the water below. The faint splash meets his ears. He leans forward, breathing deeply, and lets go of the railing to merge into the dark void below him. 

James never hears of Alex again.


End file.
